Mythos
by stress
Summary: Mythology, or Mythos, is the branch of knowledge dealing with the collection, study and interpretation of myths. Chaptered shorts combining our newsboys with different aspects of Greek myths.
1. I DAVID JACOBS

Author's Note: _And, woo hoo, another collection. Just like_ Picture's Worth_, this collection will be chaptered shorts featuring a variety of different characters, crossed with Greek mythology. And, when I say short, I mean _short_. I'm trying my hand at being less wordy and more succinct. Consider these Stress' Fables, where they are short and sweet and illustrate their purpose in short form. Where _PW _is a 1,000 word limit in which I challenge myself, _Mythos _will be even shorter. Woot. _

_And, just like _Picture's Worth_, I will need willing characters to play the female roles for the mythologies chosen. For example, the next piece is about Spot; I will need two girls (one who will die) to be in his. So, if you would be so kind to review with the normal info (name, age, looks, personality, guy choice, and squicks – you know, the stuff that isn't cool with you; be prepared that lots of wonky stuff happen in mythology so please be specific with your squicks – death is a major possibility), that would be swell. And, to show you exactly what you are getting yourself into, here's the first chapter of _Mythos:

--

Mythos

05.29.06

_Some men give up their designs when they have almost reached the goal; while others, on the contrary, obtain a victory by exerting, at the last moment, more vigorous efforts than ever before._

– Herodotus

--

I. DAVID JACOBS

_And thanks to the might of one, David Jacobs, the newsboys triumphed over the Goliath of this tale, the newspaper giants of New York._

With a flourish, I crossed that final "t" and placed a period at the end of the sentence. There, I was done. I finally finished my chronicles of the infamous newsboy strike of 1899. And it had only taken me a week to get it all written down. A satisfied smile came to my lips. It was pretty damn good, too, if I did say so myself.

"Hey, Dave? What you got there, buddy?"

I nearly jumped when I saw Jack standing above, squinting down past me to see what I was working on. When did he sneak out of the window and join me on the fire escape? Just when I thought that no one wondered what exactly it was that I did every night, sitting outside floors above the dirt, Jack Kelly decides to come looking for me. And what does he do but read over my shoulder. Where was Sarah? I thought she was inside occupying him – can't she do anything right?

Before he could catch a glimpse of my own personal masterpiece, I shuffled the papers together and turned them face down. My chronicles were for my own memory; as good as I was at documenting facts, I wasn't ready to show it to anyone yet.

I capped my Waterman fountain pen and slid it into the front pocket of my button-down shirt before glancing up at Jack. He seemed to tower over me as I remained sitting on the fire escape. Trying not to be conspicuous, I moved my leg so that it was covering the pile of papers. "Nothing, Jack."

But Jack wasn't as dumb as he looked. He pointed down. "It ain't nothing. You got some papers hidden underneath your trousers. What are they, hmm?" Then he did something I wasn't expecting. He squatted down and swiped at my leg. I jerked it away – I'm not one who likes pain _at all_ – and he snatched at the papers. I caught onto his, surprisingly, swift plan at once but could only stop him for grabbing the whole stack. He did manage to grab the last page.

"What's this?" he asked again, a smirk coming to his face. Oh, how I hate that smirk. It always makes me feel like crossing my arms and pouting. It was his "victory" smirk. I first saw that annoying expression when he ran into me the day I met him. Genius had been antagonizing the Delancey brothers, as usual. Even then I knew he would get under my skin. The smirk just did that to me.

However I fought the urge to pout; instead, I pulled myself up and tried to take my paper back. Jack laughed and climbed back through the window. Scowling, I grabbed the rest of my chronicles and followed him inside.

Sarah was sitting in the kitchen, talking with my mother. She watched as Jack's brown eyes ran across the page, with me standing behind him trying to take it away. He was too quick for me, and that seemed to amuse my sister.

I ignored her smile and decided to give up. I knew I wouldn't get that last page back until Jack had read it. He may be seventeen but the boy acts like he's seven. They way he plays around with Les is enough proof of that.

I sat down at the edge of Sarah's bed, waiting for him to finish.

When he finally did, he looked over at me, puzzled. He re-read the last line of the page aloud to me. "'And thanks to the might of one, David Jacobs, the newsboys triumphed over the Goliath of this tale, the newspaper giants of New York.' Hey, Dave? That ain't how the strike ended," he said, pointing at the end page of my chronicles. "That ain't how it happened at all."

I smiled and grabbed the paper back from his out-stretched hand. "Oh, isn't it, Jack?"

--

End note: _I almost decided against adding an end note, but I figured what the hell. In an effort not to confuse anyone who reads this, I feel I should elaborate on the format – or, at least, comment on the quotation given before the short piece. The quotation is not in any way a summary for the paragraphs that follow. I have two purposes with the addition: 1) let the readers know which historical figure/myth is the focus of the drabble. Just in case the reader can't figure that out by reading the paragraphs, I will tell you. In this one, for example, I compare David Jacobs and Herodotus, the famous "Father of History." 2) What I plan on doing, as long as I can find the right quotes, is pick a quote that, hopefully, relates back to the movie itself. For this quote, I imagine that the first part shows Jack's brief time as a scab; the latter portion relates to how David assumed much more responsible for the strike toward the end._

_Yeah, I really spend too much time thinking about this stuff. I think I need to go back out and get myself a job :) But, it is my goal before my unemployment spell ends, to get my word count up to 450,000 words – right now I'm at 360,000. So, if you were wondering why it seemed like I update too many different stories, too much – I really do have that much time on my hands. It's sad, really. And, just in case anyone is curious, I'm still working on _APW _drabbles. Just got a bit of a difficult one at the moment, thanks to Biddy :)_

_Anywho, review _Mythos _and offer me up characters for sacrifice._


	2. II SPOT CONLON

Author's Note: _Well, I decided to change around the chapter on Spot. That's one of the good things about these myths – for each character, there is so much to choose from. So, instead of doing the part where he would have to kill people, I turned my pen against Spot. Whoops. Let's just say that, while the first chapter was humor (hey, I tried), this chapter focuses more on the dark stuff. And it's in third person – that works better for me._

_I also wanted to comment on the first chapter. I think my humor went just a little over everyone's head – or, maybe, not everyone is as big a dork as me. The reason why I thought David made a great Herodotus in that chapter is because Herodotus, the _supposed _father of history, is constantly being accused of having made a lot of the history up. And, as you saw, making up the story is _just _what David did._

_Anywho, here's the next bit. Nowhere near as short as the first one but I couldn't help it. I'm trying something different – working on a section of a myth rather than one character (like Herodotus)._

Disclaimer: _Rae Kelly is not my character though sometimes I think I might just whisk her away and hold her captive until my Rae-zin gets back to work on her writing ;) Spot Conlon is Disney's. Whistler and Gimmick belong to Garen and Gimmick, respectively. Snaps, Toxin and River are mine. As are small thug #1 and small thug #2._

--

Mythos

06.02.06

_Our lives ... are but a little while, so let them run as sweetly as you can, and give no thought to grief from day to day. For time is not concerned to keep our hopes, but hurries on its business, and is gone. _

– Heracles

--

II. SPOT CONLON

She hadn't been altogether sure that Spot would come for her. On a whim, and deciding against going to Manhattan – for obvious reasons; the Conlon-Kelly alliance was too strong – she had left Brooklyn in favor of the Bronx. She had a friend there, Snaps; Snaps assured her that she would be welcome. So, after that one argument, she had left.

But the Bronx weren't as great as Snaps made them out to be. One of the first nights there, she had caught the eye of River, the young leader of a gang. From that moment on, she was considered his no matter what she said. And that first night – when she tried to make it back to Brooklyn – well, she still could feel the sting of his palm striking her across the face.

Just when she had resigned herself to, at least, waiting until River's fixation had faded, _that's_ when Spot Conlon finally decided to show.

He came alone but his very presence was enough to keep River's flunkies away from him. He just marched right into River's warehouse and punched him dead in the face. "Rae belongs to Brooklyn," he said in that self-assured way that he had. River didn't respond. Possibly because Spot's hit had knocked him out.

As Spot reached for her hand and, hurriedly, led her away and out of the Bronx – all the while lecturing her on leaving the safety of Brooklyn – Rae found herself smiling. The other boys all gave them a wide berth as they left. Spot Conlon had that sort of presence. Her smile widened as these thugs cowered before the short boy and she felt happy.

Maybe she did know Spot would come for her, after all.

---

They weren't that far out of the Bronx when the ambush came. Three boys – Rae recognized them as being part of River's gang, though she never before spoken to them – came jumping out. The largest of the three, the one she knew as Toxin, grabbed her away from Spot, while the smaller ones starting hitting at any part of him they could reach.

She didn't even have the chance to hit at her attacker. He was too big, too strong – and he had a knife. She knew better.

Toxin dragged her away, only getting as far as two blocks over before Rae recovered her nerve. If he was only coming after her to bring her back to his boss, he would not hurt her. Right? She stuck her fingernails in his arm and he tossed her onto the ground.

---

As soon as the largest goon had gotten his hands on Rae, the two lesser boys let up on Spot. They were there just to serve as a distraction – make sure that Toxin got the girl far enough away. That was the only way he could get the two boys to agree to take on Spot Conlon.

Once Spot understood this, he stopped fighting back. Instead, he ducked out beneath the two boys and ran in the direction of Rae. He had to make sure she was okay.

---

Toxin, it seemed, did not intend to give her back to River. After throwing her to the ground, he sat atop her, pinning her arms to her sides with his knees. Leering down, his green eyes dancing at her discomfort, Toxin laid his knife down before beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Rae fought the urge to scream. She knew she needed to conserve her energy. Once River gave her the opportunity to fight back – he couldn't keep her hands pinned forever, could he? – she would. She would not let him do this to her.

Just when he had dropped his shirt down beside the blade, and was getting ready to undo the shirt she wore, Rae saw hope. Spot had just entered the alleyway.

Though it was dark, she could almost see the scene playing itself out in Spot's eyes. Before she could say anything to him, he struck out. He hurried forward and grabbed Toxin's blade.

One moment it was in his hand. The next it was embedded in Toxin's side. The larger boy had no idea what happened.

---

Though they let Spot go, the two boys followed closely behind. They had to keep an eye out for Toxin. They promised.

But, of course, they arrived too late. They found their way to the alley where Spot was helping a shaken Rae to her feet just as Toxin was breathing roughly. Though it was dark, they could see the shiny glint of the blade as he stuck in his bare flesh.

The smaller of the two gasped. Spot heard the noise and turned to face them. There was a brief, tense, moment where he stared them down before he took a step. The two boys turned and ran. Spot followed.

---

She was left alone, in the alley, when Spot left. But she wasn't afraid; rather, she was shaken about what had just happened.

That's when she heard the strangled cough followed by shallow breathing. Toxin was dying – the piece of metal jutting out of his bare flesh told her that – but he was not dead yet.

"Rae," he whispered, lying on his back. She couldn't answer him. She took a step away from him, instead. How could he talk to her after what he had tried to do? How could she answer after she, inadvertently, caused his death.

She heard him wheeze before trying to speak to her again. "I was just looking out for you, Rae," he tried, sounding as pitiful as he could – which wasn't too hard. "You deserve so much better than what Spot Conlon can give you. He's already spread so thin, you know." He coughed again. "Do you love him, Rae?"

She didn't answer. He didn't expect her too.

"Listen," he continued, and she could see that it was getting harder for him to speak. "If you want to make sure that Spot Conlon is yours, I'll help you. Cause I'm sorry, Rae, I didn't mean it."

Rae felt tears come to her eyes but she wouldn't let them fall. "Alright, Toxin. What do you need?"

He fumbled around for something in his pocket. He withdrew a vial and paused – the pain was slowly dulling. The end was coming. "Pull this knife out," he said. She knelt down beside him and, despite her own objections did what he asked. She tried not to wince at the curse word that came out of his mouth at the same time the knife was in her hand.

He rolled the vial towards her. "This is a truth serum. Pour it on the blade, but don't touch it." Rae did as she was told. She didn't have time to argue. "Now wrap it up in my shirt. You can't touch the serum."

When the knife was wrapped, Toxin laid on his back. His eyes were closing. "You have to… cut Conlon… with that. Draw blood. Then mix it… with yours. He'll be… true…to…"

His eyes were closed. Toxin had died.

---

"Rae, let's go." The knife hidden underneath her blouse, Rae glanced up from her position, kneeling beside Toxin's fallen body. Spot appeared out of nowhere, again, sporting only a fat lip for all the fighting. He was alone.

She glanced at him before turning her attention back to Toxin. _Did he really mean what he said?_

Spot followed her eyes. "He deserved it, Rae. He was trying to hurt you." And that was all he would say on the matter. He extended his hand and offered it to her. She accepted it and was soon standing on her feet. "Come on. We gotta go. Those other two boys were just distractions and fled as soon as Toxin went down. I tried to go after them but they know the area too well." He paused and looked around urgently. "Let's just get back to Brooklyn."

She nodded. It was all she could do.

---

It was not long after arriving with Spot to Brooklyn that Rae began to _really_ think about Toxin's last words. _I was just looking out for you, Rae. You deserve so much better than what Spot Conlon can give you. He's already spread so thin, you know. _ At the time she has assumed that his words were the ramblings of a dead man. She had heard the rumors of Spot's many infidelities – who hadn't? – but, in all the time she had known him, he had never proven those rumors true.

After all, it had been Spot who fought River for her. Why would he bother if he already had other girls?

But that was before he started spending more time away from the lodging house than he was in it. He chose to sell alone during many of the days and would not return back until late. One of those first nights he had returned smelling of the cheapest perfume. It was that sour smell, coupled with the glaze in his beautiful cyan eyes, which reminded her of Toxin and the gift he had given her.

She had kept that knife, wrapped up in his shirt, locked in a drawer. She alone had the key to it and, like Spot, kept it on a string around her neck. It caused a wry smile to come to her face when she thought of the irony. No one ever knew where Spot's key lead – rumors dictated that it led to a secret room where Spot brought his conquests; Rae's key held the secret to stopping Spot's infidelities.

Once a day, following the incident with the perfume, Rae drew the bundle out of the drawer. With shaking hands, she unwrapped the blue material until the shiny, sharp blade was visible beneath the folds. But, before she could decide to use it against him, she always lost her nerve. She would re-wrap it, place it away and lock the drawer. It was all she could do.

---

One night, when Spot returned from his 'business', Rae was waiting for him. She sat inside the room that the Brooklyn leader had claimed for his own; as the only girl of his who lived within the Lodging House, it was understood that she would be allowed in there if she wished. She slept in her own bunk – she insisted on it because she was a "good girl" – but, during the best of their arguments, she met him in his room.

The bundle sat next to her, begging to be undone. And, when Spot returned, she would finally test him. She _needed_ to know. When Spot had returned the night before, he sported a red lipstick kiss on the collar of his shirt. The proof was not ignorable; she needed to get the truth out of him.

---

Spot returned fairly early to the Lodging House. When he arrived, only Whistler was to be found inside – the rest of the boys were out, enjoying the beautiful weather by swimming down at the docks. He nodded to the red-headed boy and indicated that he was going to rest before heading out. With a wink, he said one name: "Gimmick." Gimmick was one of the girls, down in Manhattan, which had been coming out to visit him recently. He was going to meet her later just past the Bridge. He, of course, knew better to bring her here. This was Rae's territory.

Whistler laughed and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before giving his friend the thumbs-up. As Spot reached for the knob to his private room, Whistler turned to leave the Lodging House. There was swimming to do and girls to get.

---

He was surprised to find Rae waiting for him on his bed when he entered the room. But his surprise lasted only a moment. After what happened in the Bronx, he was sure that Rae wanted nothing to do with him. She was finally coming around and being herself again. It was about time. Maybe it wasn't too late to cancel his outing with Gimmick.

"Rae, I—" he began but stopped when he saw that she had risen from the bed and, after approaching him slowly, one hand behind her back, grabbed his arm. He smirked at her touch; even after she had been with him for the past weeks, she had shown that she was not overly affectionate. He was slowly winning her over. He had thought that the incident over in the Bronx had pushed her farther away – maybe he was wrong.

But that was before he saw the knife she was carefully handling. "What's that?" he asked, his eyes narrowed and focused on the blade. _Did she know_?

Rae smiled. "Spot, I've been hearing things, you know. And this is going to help me to fix these nasty rumors."

Spot paled slightly but gave no other indication that he was nervous. "And…"

"Just trust me, Spot," Rae said and shook her head, her long golden plait resting on her shoulder. _She doesn't look that upset_, he noted. _Just determined._

He nodded.

Rae took the knife and, gently so as not to hurt him, placed the tip against his skin. She used a bit of pressure to break the skin – Spot didn't even flinch – and dragged it along the forearm until there was a scratch four inches long.

She paused and smiled at him. "There. Now all I have to do is do the same to me and we'll be bonded together. Then you can' be with other girls anymore." She moved the blade so that it was resting against her own skin. But, before she could pierce her own skin, Spot shivered violently. His eyes – those beautiful eyes – widened and looked at her in disbelief.

---

Almost at once, Rae saw that she had been duped. Her. Duped. Feeling partly responsible for Toxin's death, she had chosen to believe that he wouldn't lie to her as he was dying. That he really was trying to protect her. And what did her naivety get her? The knife that was meant to make him faithful had just poisoned him. The "magic potion" Toxin had place on the blade and just been poison – and she had just, unknowingly, administered to him.

Rae Kelly had just murdered Spot Conlon.

Spot fell to his knees. The venom was working and its effects were almost instantaneous. His legs were already paralyzed.

Rae fought the urge to cry. She could feel the hysterics rising up in her and she stood by his side. The knife had fallen from her hands and lay forgotten next to his boots. "Spot, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice thick and shaking. "But don't worry, Spot. I'm gonna fix this. Let me just get some water for your arm. We'll clean it good and…" She couldn't finish her statement; she knew the truth deep inside. She had _murdered_ him.

She tried to walk away from him but, before she could, Spot's thin hand shot out. Rae tried not to notice how clammy his touch felt against her bare ankle. "No," he said and he looked up. When she met his eyes – those beautiful cyan eyes – she knew he would not let her save him. He had been betrayed, but was not vengeful. He understood as much as he ever could.

And, like the man he thought he was, Spot Conlon chose death. He lay down on the floor, perfectly still, with sorrow in his beautiful eyes. After that last breath escaped his thin lips, his eyes were still open.

---

It was much later that Whistler, curious to hear how Spot's night with Gimmick had gone, knocked on the door to the private room. He was the only one with enough nerve to enter Spot's room without his permission and, without waiting for an answer, walked inside. It was he who found Brooklyn's fallen leader, his eyes mercifully shut.

Before she had disappeared, Rae had let him die just like the man he thought he was: straight-backed and proud. But she couldn't take his accusing eyes. Before she slipped out of the room, she closed them gently.

No one was sure how or why Spot Conlon died. The mysterious circumstances surrounding his death just added to the legend he became. Whistler, one of the only one's who saw the body before it was taken away to the Morgue, saw nothing on Spot that would cause death. The only thing out of the ordinary was a slight scratch running down his left arm. The blood was only just clotting when Whistler found him.

Without the knife, with the trace of venom that Toxin had placed on top of it, it was impossible for anyone to know he had been poisoned. And the knife was nowhere to be found. Right before she had escaped from the Brooklyn Lodging House, Rae had wrapped up the knife in a stolen sheet.

Not that she would need the knife any longer. Except, maybe, to cut the sheet into strips – strips that could very easily be made into rope.

--

End Note: _This chapter compares the infamous Spot Conlon with the Greek demi-god, Heracles (also known as Hercules). "_He was the greatest of the Greek heroes, a paragon of masculinity, the ancestor of royal clans and a champion of the Olympian order against chthonic monsters. Extraordinary strength, courage, ingenuity, and sexual prowess with both males and females were among his characteristic attributes." _  
Rae Kelly is compared to Heracles' third wife, Deianeira. "_Deianeira was no passive blushing princess. 'This Deianira drove a chariot and practiced the art of war', noted Apollodorus." _Deianira, accidentally, killed Heracles. After Heracles' death she committed suicide by hanging herself.  
The other two characters, River and Toxin, represent the river god, Achelous, and the centaur, Nessus. Achelous was Deianeira's first suitor, the one that Heracles won her away from. Nessus was a centaur that attempted to rape her and was killed by Heracles. He, in turn, tricked Deianeira into killing Heracles using poisoned blood and semen._

_If you want to know more about this myth, check out Wikipedia. Wikipedia is your friend._


End file.
